Episode 18: C is for Murder
by Castle Season 9
Summary: Castle takes a 'Castle-flavored' case a little personally, while Beckett questions what her professional life will bring once the baby is here.
1. Chapter 1

**C Is For Murder**

Season 9, Episode 18

Written by honeyandvodka

 _This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental._

* * *

"It's creepy at this time of night, is all," Jemima complained, but her companion just shrugged.

"I like it when it's dark," Tom said. "It's kind of nice now that there's nobody here."

"I just want to go home," she sighed, and he nodded.

"I just need to grab a book. I meant to pick it up when I was shelving before, but then someone wanted my help logging on to the wifi, and," he ran a hand through his hair, apparently weary of constant patron requests for help, "I forgot."

"Let's just get it and go," Jemima pressed, and they rounded the corner, the shelves all identical in the after-hours emergency lighting.

"Right here-" The words died on Tom's lips as he looked down; even in the dark there was no mistaking the form lying on the floor at his feet.

Jemima screamed.

* * *

"I thought you wanted an early night," Kate said, walking into the office from the living room.

Castle nodded, not looking up from his laptop. "I did. I do," he said, his fingers still flying across the keyboard.

"Babe, it's nearly midnight. Early is nine. Or eight. Or seven."

Castle looked up at her, a smirk on his face. "You used to work these hours as a matter of course," he pointed out.

She shrugged, stifling a yawn. "What can I say? I'm exhausted." She scowled. "All the time."

Castle grinned, closing his laptop and standing, walking around the desk to wrap his arms around her waist. " _All_ the time? Even…" he ran his hands lower, his fingertips skating the soft skin on her hips, "even now?"

"Maybe… maybe not _now_ ," she agreed, leaning into him, her own hands finding their way under his shirt as she nudged him toward their bedroom, only to be interrupted by the shrill of the phone. She groaned in frustration as she snatched the offending device off the desk and slid her thumb across the screen, accepting the call. "Beckett."

"Beckett?" came Esposito's voice across the line. "I thought I called Castle's phone."

"No. It's mine," she replied, looking up at Castle and rolling her eyes, but he just held his hand out, forcing her to look at the cell in her hand. "Okay," she admitted to Espo, not relinquishing it to Castle just yet. "Fine, it's his." She paused. "Wait. You're on call. If you've caught a case, why are you calling Castle and not me?"

* * *

"What have we got?" Castle was practically bouncing as they ducked under the police tape and walked into the Mid-Manhattan Library, pleased that Beckett had agreed to join him in spite of being so tired this late at night. Plus, they were right across the road from the main branch, and that had to bode well - he could still feel the way she'd thrown her arms around him when he'd been implicated by Tyson and forced to orchestrate his own prison break.

"You're going to _love_ this, bro," Espo assured him, his eyes shining. "It's seriously Castle-flavored."

Ryan appeared at the top of the inanimate escalator, beckoning them up. "Come on," he called.

"Guys," Beckett interrupted. "A little respect, please? No matter how _Castle_ -flavored this is-" she wrinkled her nose, showing her open disdain at the implication that this specifically meant it wasn't _Beckett_ -flavored, "-it's still a crime scene. And-" she pointed at the out-of-action escalator, "-I can't walk up that."

"There's an elevator." Esposito pointed across the room.

Castle followed Beckett's gaze toward the elevator, then looked longingly at the escalator again before meekly following his wife.

* * *

"This is _terrible_ ," Castle exclaimed. "This is awful." He glared at Esposito and Ryan before turning to Beckett. "How could they think this is Castle-flavored?"

Beckett swallowed the laughter that was threatening to bubble up. Yes, this was a crime scene, a murder scene at that, but the hangdog expression that had befallen Castle's face as he'd taken in the situation was nothing short of hilarious.

"Come on, Castle," she urged. "It's kind of... Castle-flavored."

"There is blood all over my books," he announced, as if she wasn't staring at the exact same scene as he was. "Blood. From a victim. Who is on the floor. Of a library. This is _sacrilege_."

"How is this different from when Tisdale stole scenes from your book?" she asked.

Castle scowled in response. "It just is," he mumbled, staring at his feet, then straightening up and setting a steely gaze toward the victim. He turned toward Lanie, who was crouched over the body. "Come on. This man clearly deserves our respect. Lanie, what have we got?"

Beckett huffed out a half sigh that might have been a strangled giggle, before turning her attention to the ME who was addressing Castle.

"It is what it looks like, Castle. I'll know more when we get him back to the lab, but from where I'm standing, I'm seeing a gunshot wound to the head." She indicated the books strewn across the body and the floor. "I'd say he was pushed backwards by the force and that knocked the books off the shelf as he fell."

"But why _my_ books?" Castle asked morosely, and Beckett stifled a snort.

"Who is he, Lanie?" she asked.

Esposito stepped in. "Name's Johnson James; he's been an employee here for the last six months, a newly qualified librarian. His shift finished when the library closed at eleven, and Lanie puts the time of death around then. Those two-" he jerked a thumb toward a young man and woman who were speaking with Ryan, "-were on closing, and they found him just before they left, at eleven-thirty."

"And who are they?"

Espo consulted his notes before answering. "Jemima Bennett and Tom Clarke. Jemima's a librarian, and Tom's a shelver. They were closing tonight and Tom wanted to borrow a book before they left."

"Jemima looks pretty upset," Beckett mused, and Castle followed her gaze and her train of thought.

"But Tom doesn't," he finished. He met his wife's eyes. "Let's get them into the precinct first thing in the morning."

* * *

Castle stepped out of the interview room, followed by Ryan, dejection all over his face.

"Well?" Beckett asked as they returned to the bullpen, and Castle shrugged.

"It wasn't him," he said.

"And you know this how?" A smile played on Beckett's face.

"He's a fan," Castle told her. "He was even at the convention a few weeks ago, sat in on all the panels. Huge fan. Loves Nikki, loves Rook. He's even tried his hand at fanfic, though he told me he only gets a half dozen reviews for every story, and to be honest, he outlined a couple of plots, and, well, they sucked."

Beckett raised a hand to her temple, the smile strained as she turned to Ryan in the hope of a more definitive report.

"He's got an alibi," Ryan said. "He was on the phone to his mom while Jemima closed up. We'll check his phone records, but yeah, I think we can cut him loose."

"See?" Beckett asked Castle, an eyebrow raised. "He's got an alibi. That's a bit more legitimate than the fact that he's a fanfic writer."

"Both are valid," Castle scowled.

"Back to square one," Ryan sighed. "Though he did mention that Johnson had been arguing with-" he consulted his notes, "-an Emma Miller earlier in the day."

"And who is Emma Miller?"

"She's another librarian. They were having - get this - an argument about whether Dewey is better or worse than the Library of Congress classification system."

"Librarians," groaned Esposito, joining them in front of the whiteboard.

"What do you have against librarians?" Castle asked, an edge to his voice.

"What don't I?" Esposito scowled. "Starting with Mrs. Rodriguez, my elementary school librarian, who gave me detention for putting gum in a book when I was in second grade. And then in high school-"

Beckett raised her hand, cutting Esposito off. "Guys. I have... paperwork. I have to go... over there." She indicated toward her desk, shaking her head as she fled toward the peace and quiet offered by the closed door of her office.

* * *

"So you think because two adults had an intellectual discussion on library classification systems-" Castle directed this at Ryan, before stepping toward Esposito and jabbing a finger into his chest, his volume increasing. "And _you_ think librarians aren't worth taking seriously because you were disciplined for _defiling_ a book," he glared at the two of them, "that this poor Emma Miller _killed_ our victim?"

"Dude." Esposito stared back at him, grasping his finger and removing it from where it was still resting on his chest. "Librarians have a whole hidden agenda. Do not tell me you don't get that?"

"And I do _not_ think 'an intellectual discussion' about library classification systems got our vic killed," Ryan interjected. "But I do think that it's worth bringing Emma Miller in for a chat."

"I would," LT said, sidling up to Ryan and handing the detective a file. "Take a look at this."

Ryan scanned the pages, a satisfied smile creeping across his face. "Look at this," he said, holding up Emma Miller's DMV photograph for everyone to see. Dark eyes stared out of the picture, electric blue hair framing a pale face. "Not your everyday librarian, right?"

"Because she has blue hair?" Castle asked, digging his heels in, but Ryan just shook his head.

"No, man, not because she has blue hair. Seriously, what is your problem? Because of this." He thrust the paper at the writer. "Because she was charged with assaulting a colleague in a library she worked at in Ohio two years ago."

"Fine," Castle grumbled, his heart sinking. First blood all over his books, and now a librarian was their suspect? This was worse than bad. A copycat was one thing - plus, he'd been younger and more arrogant then, he didn't mind admitting that to himself - but this was too much. This defiled the whole literary world.

"We'll bring her in," LT told them, directing a wry smile at Castle before departing.

"Cheer up, Castle," Ryan said. "Maybe it wasn't her. And you know it's just a coincidence that it was your books that got all messed up, right?"

"Is it?" Castle asked darkly. "This is the worst case _ever_."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you know why you're here?" Esposito started, and the woman sitting opposite him nodded, her eyes downcast.

"Jemima called me this morning. She said Johnson died last night?"

"He didn't just _die_ , though, Emma," Ryan said, opening the binder in front of him and selecting one of the crime scene photos. "He was killed. Shot, in fact."

"Holy-" Emma's mouth dropped open. "He was _murdered_?"

"Jemima didn't mention that?" Esposito asked.

"No. Well, maybe." She reached into her pocket and placed her cell phone onto the table, dialing into her voicemail and putting it on speaker.

"You have one saved message," a voice announced, followed by a beep and a garbled message, broken up by sobs and sighs, the strained tones recognizable as Jemima's. She, in a fashion, attempted to share the bad news with her colleague.

Emma ended the call, looking up at Ryan and Esposito with wide eyes. "Kind of hard to get the details of the message, right?"

"Right," Ryan agreed.

"She must be so upset," Emma whispered. "They hadn't been dating long, and it was a secret, not many people knew. Me, and maybe one or two other people? I think they really liked each other. I mean, from the moment he started at the library it was pretty obvious that there was something between them. God." She buried her face in her hands, her next words muffled. "Poor Jemima."

* * *

"I told you it wasn't Emma!" From the viewing room, Castle fist-pumped the air in victory.

"Hold your horses, bud," Beckett reminded him, nudging him with her hip. "Just because she's the first person to inform us of Jemima's relationship with the victim doesn't mean she's innocent." She slid her phone from her pocket, sending a quick directive to LT asking him to bring Jemima in again. "And it might give Jemima motive. Maybe she did it."

"I don't think so," Castle said. "She was really upset when we spoke to her earlier today, but honestly, she just seemed shocked."

"Shocked enough to neglect to tell us she was dating our vic?"

Castle shrugged, his face falling as he turned his attention back to the interrogation room.

* * *

"But you argued with Mr. James yesterday," Esposito said, and Emma's face wrinkled in consternation.

"Kind of, yeah. But, you know, it was an intellectual discussion that just got a little heated. It wasn't like, oh, hey, I'm going to kill you because you're weirdly into the Library of Congress classification system."

"Tell me," Ryan said, a smile playing on his lips. "How does an argument like that become heated?"

Emma let out a soft laugh. "He was always bragging about how he was moving to DC and how he was going to work in the Library of Congress. It was all just talk, I guess, but I was tired of him complaining about public libraries. I mean, I know it's not always fun in publics, especially a branch as busy as the Mid-Manhattan, but it's pretty amazing, doing what we do."

"And that is?"

"We're there for the community!" Emma's smile was genuine now. "We don't turn people away. We run storytime for kids, we have safe spaces for teens to hang out after school. Do you know how many people, in winter, come and just sit in the library because we have decent heating?"

"And Johnson didn't get that?"

Emma shook her head. "No. He was always talking about how he had a Master's of Library Science and he wanted to use it for something more than charity cases. Like we didn't all have the same degree."

* * *

"Do you think they _were_ dating? And if so, why keep it a secret?" Castle asked.

"Why keep it a secret?" Beckett looked up at Castle from the murder board. "We kept our relationship a secret."

Castle found himself smiling for the first time all day. "Yeah, we did. That was pretty good."

"Except for the part where you made me hide in your closet, " Beckett teased.

"Except for that," Castle conceded. "But I seem to recall the part before that was pretty amazing." He took a step toward his wife, his hand coming to rest on her waist before sliding around to her belly. "And after that..."

Kate nodded in agreement. "After that-"

She took an abrupt step back from Castle as Esposito and Ryan spilled into the bullpen, arguing.

"I'm just saying, I don't think we can rule her out yet," Espo was saying, while Ryan shook his head.

"Emma?" Beckett asked.

"Naww, Jemima," Ryan said. "But I think she's heartbroken."

"Just because she's heartbroken, doesn't mean she didn't do it," Espo pointed out, which Ryan conceded with a shrug.

"Maybe."

Beckett sighed, stretching her arms up into the air as she shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. The boys bickering, Castle sulking... when had this stopped being fun?

Not that murder should ever be _fun_ , she reminded herself, but when had the banter that worked them through to finding the killer become so tedious? She rolled her shoulders again, the impact of standing in front of the whiteboard for so long making itself known through every muscle in her body.

Maybe this was why? She was growing a brand new person, and the fact that she was constantly sore and aching…

That didn't explain everything, though. A case should have been a welcome distraction; in the past she'd powered on through, spending sleepless nights in the precinct where she'd existed on nothing but coffee and takeout.

She grimaced. That explained some of it at least; the caffeine shortage in her veins meant she was existing on coffee fumes, rather than actual lattes.

"Let's bring Jemima in again." Castle's voice broke through her haze, and she nodded, raising a hand and running it through her hair.

"Sure. Good idea." She turned abruptly, heading toward her office and calling over her shoulder. "Let me know how it goes."

* * *

 _We've got Jemima back in the box now._

Beckett nodded as she read Ryan's text, leaning back into her chair and closing her eyes, momentarily pressing her fingertips against her closed eyelids before sitting up again and snapping her eyes open, the sound of her office door opening bringing her back to the present.

"More crime scene photos," Castle announced, rage radiating off him as he waved a wad of paper at her at her before fanning them out on her desk. "Look at this."

"Uh-huh." Beckett nodded, squinting to try and figure out just what had Castle so riled up. Everything looked as it had last night; Johnson James lay on the floor, blood spilling from the gunshot wound in his head, the bookshelf askew, and Castle's books flung across his body.

"Do you think it's a message?" her husband asked, and she groaned in understanding.

Not this again.

"No, no I don't," she assured him. "Babe. He happened to be standing in the crime fiction section. That's it. What does CSU say?"

He pushed another sheet of paper at her, and she scanned it.

"Right. So they're saying as he fell, his arm knocked the bookshelf. The books at the end of the shelf tumbled down. They happened to be mostly your books, but Castle, I honestly think this is a coincidence." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You weren't this upset when the fanfic writer was found with-" she grinned, using a name that she hoped would cheer him up, "- _Nooki_ fic a couple weeks ago."

"True." Castle sighed, his expression darkening. "But a lot has happened since then. And all of Patterson's books stayed on the shelf."

"Patterson's books were on a different shelf. They use the alphabet to shelve fiction," she reminded him. "It's just chance."

"Well M is meant to be for murder, not C," he scowled, and she inhaled, deciding to face this head on.

"You're thinking of Megan Bailey," she surmised.

"It's hard not to," he admitted.

"Not everything is about us," Beckett reminded him.

"No," he agreed, "but Kate?" He frowned as he met her eyes. "You've been quiet since last night too. Are _you_ okay?"

"Me?" She attempted a laugh, but it came out a little more strangled than she'd intended. "I'm fine, Castle."

"Fine?" he prodded, and she drew her eyebrows together as she considered how to answer.

 _We've got something._

The text flashing across her screen was punctuated by the chime of the new message, and she stood up, pushing her chair back and indicating toward the bullpen. "Let's see what the boys have."

"But Kate, this conversation isn't over," Castle promised her as she hurried - insofar as hurrying while waddling was possible - to meet the boys at the murder board.

"Jemima confess?" she asked them, knowing from the expressions on their faces that it wasn't that simple.

"No," Espo said. "She admitted to being in a relationship with the vic. But get this- she was in a relationship with someone else as well. His name is Carl Aston."

"Cheating, huh? Definitely a motive," Beckett agreed. "Do you know anything else about this mystery man?"

"Only that he's the library manager of the Grand Central branch of the NYPL-"

"Motive _and_ access?" Castle crowed. "Bring him in!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Carl Aston's in the wind," LT announced an hour later. "No sign of him in his apartment, no wallet, a few items of clothing strewn about, looks like he left in a hurry."

"Has he been in touch with Jemima?" Beckett asked.

"Not yet, but we're putting a trace on her phone," Esposito told them with a shrug. "You never know."

Beckett nodded, stifling a yawn and looking at her watch. 6:00 P.M. Early, by her old standards, but these days...

"Let's wrap up for the day," she said to Castle. "You guys too." She nodded at the boys, and managed a tired smile. "We'll get back onto this first thing in the morning."

"Takeout?" Castle suggested, falling in step with her as they made their way to the elevator.

"Do you think you could cook for me instead?" she asked, taking a peek at him from behind the hair that had fallen into her eyes.

He nodded eagerly. "Sure. Yes. Of course. Something fancy. Nutritious. Maybe red meat. Oh! Steak, you know, iron for the baby. Keep your ferritin stores up. After all, the last blood test showed they were a little-"

"I know what my ferritin stores were," she interrupted him, stepping into the elevator. "And steak is a nice idea. But honestly? I just want comfort food. Maybe mac and cheese?"

* * *

"Babe, this is delicious." Kate smiled up at Castle from where she sat at the counter, another forkful of mac and cheese already making its way to her mouth.

From where he stood, serving himself a bowl, he smiled back at her, the first genuine beam of happiness she'd seen all day, before rounding the counter and sitting beside her. "I can tell," he teased, "by the way you couldn't even wait for me to finish serving before you started."

Kate's cheeks pinked, but she just shrugged, her lips still upturned as she took another bite.

"So at the precinct..." he started, before trailing off, and she let her cutlery drop into her bowl, turning to him.

"At the precinct," she encouraged.

"At the precinct, you seemed... sad. Miserable. Bereft..."

She blinked, taken aback. "I don't need a list of synonyms for sad, Castle."

"It seemed like you did," he defended his linguistic choice.

She managed a wry look, taking another spoonful of mac and cheese to buy herself some time before replying. "I've been thinking a lot. And it's… a lot of changes."

"The baby?" Castle prompted.

"Not just the baby. _Me_. Who am I, once I have the baby?"

Castle stared at her. They'd discussed this already, recently in fact. She knew he probably thought she'd made peace with not planning further ahead than they had to. "You're… _you_. You're Beckett. You-" He swallowed down another mouthful of their dinner before frowning at her. "What do you mean?"

"I'm- I feel like I'm already losing my whole identity. I used to... know who I was. What I did. But things changed when I become captain, and this is just compounding it. Last night they didn't even call me."

"You weren't on call," Castle pointed out.

"That doesn't usually mean much."

"True," he conceded.

"But they called _you_. Not me. _You_."

Castle's eyebrows knit together, his expression darkening. "Because they mistakenly thought the case was 'Castle-flavored.'" He air-quoted with more than a hint of annoyance in his tone.

At that, Kate forced a chuckle. "Well, they figured out their mistake pretty quickly."

Castle huffed, pushing his plate away, and Kate rolled her eyes at his dramatics, reaching out for his hand. She stood, tugging him with her, and he gestured to the dishes on the counter. "What about-"

"Leave them," she instructed. "Let's just watch a movie or something."

"With popcorn or ice cream?" he asked, and she stared at him. Who was this man and what had he done with her husband?

"Both, babe," she said. "It's you. It's always both."

* * *

The credits were rolling, and Kate was curled up into her husband's side, her eyes closed and her breathing even. Castle ran his hand through her hair as she slept, his mind still working a million miles an hour. Maybe he needed to put his consternation with the case aside and get to the heart of what was bothering his wife.

She worried about their baby, sure, and he couldn't blame her; amongst other things, having a serial killer fixated on them and their baby was incredibly concerning. But this, he felt, was something else. She sighed in her sleep, shifting against him, and he marveled at her ability to sleep in the many and varied positions this pregnancy forced her into.

He closed his own eyes as the parallels became clear. Beckett was being forced into new positions, and they weren't all of her own making. She was never one to shy away from any number of challenges, but this was something else altogether, and all the baby whisperer books in the world were useless. Maybe they could assist with sleep routines - he was skeptical - and maybe they could help with preparing for labor - again, he doubted it - but they couldn't tell her whom she would be after the baby was born.

And apparently, this case was forcing the point. He tried to put himself in her shoes. Until she'd become captain she'd been in the thick of every case, and until she'd become pregnant there still hadn't been any reason not to work all hours.

Of course Beckett was lost.

He just needed to help her find herself again. Just as his life had not so much changed - well, okay, it had changed irreversibly but he had not a single regret - so much as been enriched when Alexis was born, so Beckett would see that a baby would turn her world upside down in the most wonderful way.

He just needed to-

From the coffee table, his phone chimed with a message, and Beckett bolted upright, reaching for it before he could, and swiping the screen to read the message.

"Ryan's got something," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett raised her mug of coffee to her lips as she appraised the information Ryan had tacked to the whiteboard first thing this morning.

"Credit card was used here-" he pointed to the map on the board, indicating a location in Queens, "-and this is what CCTV captured." He held out the picture. Grainy in its black and white, the picture was nevertheless clear.

Beckett took another sip of the coffee, savoring the last of the day's caffeine allocation. After this one she would switch to decaf. "Well, that's not Carl Aston," she said.

"What's Emma doing with Carl's credit card?" Ryan asked as Castle glared at the blue-haired librarian's DMV photograph on the murder board.

"Secret affair?" he offered.

"Maybe," Beckett said, but she frowned, shaking her head no.

"It might fit, though?" Ryan asked. "If Carl killed Johnson-"

"But why? I mean, if Emma was having an affair with Carl, and Jemima was in a secret relationship with someone else, surely Carl would just end things with Jemima?"

"And once again it circles back to Jemima," Castled mused.

"Indeed," Beckett agreed. "But if - and at this stage it's a pretty big _if_ \- she's our killer, it still doesn't explain where Carl Aston is or why Emma has his credit card."

* * *

"Coffee?" Castle asked, handing a cup across the desk.

"If only it were caffeinated..." Beckett reached for it anyway, but he could feel his face fall.

Of course she wanted regular coffee. If she was worried about her identity, it made sense that she would want to break out of the current routine, mix things up a bit instead of the conservative approach she'd taken to her life's blood since that little stick had shown two lines. "Sorry. I thought you'd had one already, and-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "Decaf is fine," she said, and he nodded, pushing the musings back and handing her the mug. "And maybe we can take an early lunch, get out of here for a bit?" She gestured to her desk. "I'm swimming in paperwork here; a change of scenery would be nice."

"Maybe that French place?" Castle suggested. He sank down into the couch opposite, bringing his own coffee to his lips.

"Maybe." Beckett wrinkled her nose. "But I think the baby just wants a burger."

"The baby, huh?" He grinned. So far this morning Beckett seemed far happier than she had last night. She'd walked into the precinct with a lightness in her step that had been lacking over the last few days, and she'd actually smiled at the boys when she'd greeted them at the whiteboard this morning.

A smile danced on her lips. "And a strawberry milkshake."

"Might as well start as I mean to continue, and give this baby everything she wants," he agreed.

"I have no doubt she'll be a daddy's girl." Beckett ran a hand over the swell of her stomach. "She's kicking. She likes the idea of Remy's."

Castle gazed at his wife, enraptured by her radiance. Thirty-seven weeks pregnant, and she was amazing. When other people in her position might have taken leave long before now - they could certainly afford it - she'd been insistent on her dedication to the job, and whatever melancholy had caught her yesterday seemed to have evaporated.

A rap at the door caught their attention, and they both turned their heads as Esposito entered, his focus on his cell phone. "Ryan just sent me something," he said. "Financials."

"Carl Aston's?" Beckett asked, but Espo shook his head.

"The library's."

* * *

"So what are we looking at here?" Beckett asked as she ran her eyes over the papers in front of her.

"We did a thorough run-through of Emma's financials, and Carl's, and nothing looked amiss-"

"Except for Emma using Carl's credit card last night," Esposito clarified, to Ryan's nod.

"Except for that. So we looked at Jemima's financials, again, all good, nothing out of the ordinary, but what did they all have in common?"

"The library," Castle said.

"Right. So as manager, Carl has a credit card for his branch. Mostly it's incidentals. For databases and the big book purchases they have preferred suppliers, vetted processes, but if they have an author talk or something, they use the credit card to purchase refreshments."

"But not, I'm guessing, eight hundred dollars at Saks one day, thirty dollars at Sephora the next?" Beckett said.

Esposito smirked. "Nope. But you know who likes to shop at Saks and Sephora?"

"Emma Miller," Beckett and Castle said in unison.

* * *

"What am I doing here again?" Emma asked as Beckett entered the interrogation room.

Beckett slid into her seat - less gracefully, perhaps, than she had in the past, but as long as she was still working there was no reason to let the boys have all the fun - before answering with a question. "You have a lot of credit-card debt, don't you, Emma?"

The woman opposite paled beneath her makeup, but held her gaze steady. "So? Lots of people have credit-card debt."

"It's hard to get ahead," Beckett agreed. "New York City is expensive. I mean rent is what, two thirds of your income? Not like Ohio. I mean, in Ohio you had a whole place to yourself, lots of disposable income, and here you're sharing with two roommates, working insane hours, and all for what?"

"I love my job," Emma countered, jutting her chin up in defiance.

"Not to mention student loans," Beckett continued, and Emma nodded warily.

"Right..."

"So tell me, Emma, with all your expenses, how do you afford the extras?" Emma glared at her, and Beckett smiled back; the woman was already defensive, and that usually meant she was a step closer to a confession.

"What extras?" she asked, her voice cracking now, her confidence gone.

"Your wardrobe, for one," Beckett said, sliding an itemized bill across the table. "Makeup, for another. Shoes, of course." At that last point, she frowned, the memory of running down criminals in sky-high heels just that - a memory. Pregnancy and high heels didn't go together quite the way she had hoped.

"I was meant to get branch manager!" Emma exploded all at once, rage rolling off her entire body as she trembled with anger. "That was the whole reason I moved to the City. I wanted a fresh start after that, that- _thing_ , in Ohio."

"That _thing_ where you assaulted your colleague?"

"You know what?" Emma snapped. "It's not in any of the reports, but he started it. He hit on me, day in, day out, wouldn't take no for an answer. Yeah, I assaulted him all right. Slammed an encyclopedia into his face when he tried to grope me."

Beckett blinked. Indeed, none of that had been in any reports.

"So yes, I wanted a fresh start. And my friend from grad school said she could get me a job managing the Grand Central branch, but she wasn't the only one on the interview panel, so I ended up at the Mid-Manhattan branch as a librarian, which was fine, except the salary…" She sighed, burying her face in her hands. "I just couldn't make it work. And I had access to all the library's credit cards so… you got me. I made some bad decisions, and I stole money from the library."

"And Carl's personal card? Why did you have that?"

"He left his wallet in the lunchroom when he was at our branch for a meeting two days ago." She shook her head. "It was stupid. I wanted to get back at him for getting the job I was meant to have."

"Okay, I think I'm getting this, Emma," Beckett said, rolling her shoulders as she spoke in a futile attempt to get comfortable. "But I need you to explain one more thing. You stole from the library - using Carl's work account - and you stole from Carl himself. So how does Johnson tie into this? Did he find out? Is that why you killed him?"

"Johnson?" Emma stared at Beckett, her expression dumbfounded. "I stole money, yes, but I certainly didn't kill Johnson!"


	5. Chapter 5

The familiar booths at Remy's always brought a kind of peace to Beckett, and she slid into one, turning sideways to fit a little better. Castle sat down opposite her, and she took a deep breath, appreciating the comfortable ambiance the diner offered. Across the room, a baby cried, and she turned to watch as the mother scooped the tiny creature out of its stroller and into her arms, holding the little girl close.

The cries stilled almost immediately, and she smiled across the table at her partner. "She makes it look easy," she commented.

He grinned back. "Sometimes it is. Sometimes all they need is to be held."

"I hope it comes that naturally to me," she mused, and he grinned.

"Absolutely it will. I've seen you with Sarah Grace and Nicholas, you're a natural. I mean, Nicholas only likes a handful of people and you're one of them."

He laughed. "He doesn't even like Esposito, and he's Ryan's best friend."

"I guess so..." Beckett trailed off.

"Plus, you have a huge advantage-"

"Please don't tell me about your RHD again," she groaned, and he laughed.

"What can I say, Beckett, you're the one who brought it up when I thought I was too old for this. You can't deny it, I'm a baby whisperer."

"Remember how hard it was to look after Benny for just one night, though?"

"Sure. But we got through it. And this will be different. This is _our_ baby. Lily."

She nodded, bringing her hands protectively around her belly again, before looking up at the waitress who had arrived at their booth.

"Do you two need menus, or are you having your usual?" Rosa asked.

"The usual," they spoke as one.

Their waitress chuckled, moving off to place their order.

They sat in silence for a moment, before both speaking at once.

"If Emma doesn't know where Carl is-"

"If Carl is just another innocent victim in this-"

"Wait," Beckett said. "Why are you figuring him for innocent all of a sudden?"

Castle furrowed his brow, considering his words before he spoke. "His apartment was cleared out, right? We thought he'd taken all his stuff, but he'd left his wallet at the library-"

"Which Emma stole-"

"-and so that makes it hard to say whether he really packed a bag and ran, or if he's also missing, and someone went through his stuff to make it look like he'd run."

"Hmm." Beckett nodded, thinking it all over. With any luck their food would be there soon; no doubt she would think more clearly on a full stomach.

As if on cue, their waitress returned, placing a burger in front of each of them, and a plate of fries in the middle of the table, before handing Kate her strawberry shake and Castle his chocolate.

Beckett took a bite, relishing the simplicity of a well-done burger; she'd been _fairly_ unconvinced that cravings were a real thing throughout this pregnancy, but the urge for things like mac and cheese and burgers in recent days were putting an end to that. Maybe she could convince Castle to make mac and cheese again tonight. Or if he thought two nights of the same thing was a bit much, maybe she could make peace with spaghetti bolognese. Or tacos.

Castle broke through her thoughts as he spoke. "We're back to square one, either way." He dipped a fry into the ketchup and popped it in his mouth, and she shook her head, taking a sip of the shake before answering.

"No, you know what? The more I think about it, the less it adds up. And square one is exactly where we need to be. Think about it. What did we learn at the scene?"

"That my _books_ were implicated?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not that, no."

"Fine," he huffed. "So we were at the scene. Our witnesses were Tom and Jemima... One of whom has been keeping secrets the whole time. A secret relationship with our vic, a secret relationship with our missing man…"

"We've got a common denominator," Beckett deduced.

He nodded, getting it, and they spoke together. "Jemima."

* * *

Castle walked into the interrogation room a step behind Beckett. She was right: things were changing, but not this, never this. Whether she was running down suspects, or whether one of them was home with the baby, made no difference to their relationship; he was by her side in all the ways it mattered, and that was where he belonged.

Beckett sat first, Castle beside her, both of them sizing up the young woman in front of them. Jemima Bennett, 26. She'd gained her master's a year before Johnson James. Born and bred in Brooklyn, she'd made her way through the NYPL system: first employed as a shelver while she studied, then as a librarian at the Grand Central branch, then transferring to Mid-Manhattan shortly before their victim had started there.

"Do you know why you're here?" Beckett opened gently; thus far, nothing had shown them that going at Jemima head-on was likely to bring them a confession.

"I, uh- did you find something? About Johnson?"

"Yes," Beckett said. "About Johnson, yes. But not just about Johnson. Do you want to tell us a little more about Carl Aston?"

Jemima shook her head, silent for a moment before speaking. "Do you think he killed Johnson?"

"We did," Beckett admitted. "At first glance it looked like he had motive. After all, Johnson was having an affair with his girlfriend, and it looked like he'd taken off after Johnson was found dead."

"But things didn't quite add up," Castle interjected, laying it all out. "Especially once we got ahold of CCTV footage from outside his apartment. Then we searched your apartment. Mr Aston was very grateful to be rescued."

Jemima blanched, and Beckett took the opportunity to speak again. "He told us he thinks you drugged him to get him to come with him."

At that accusation, Jemima's eyes widened, before tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I had to! After Tom and I found Johnson's body I had to tell Carl what I'd done. That I'd done it for _him_. That was the only way to prove to him that things were really over between Johnson and me. But he-" she hiccupped as she continued to cry. "He wanted to tell the police, said I was crazy. Said that he was going to call 911, so I had to do it! I gave him a shot of the zombie drug, took him to my apartment. I thought once it all blew over he'd understand!"

"Understand that you killed your boyfriend? Or understand that you'd drugged and kidnapped him?" Castle asked.

Jemima gave a strangled cry, throwing her hands up in the air in despair.

"I have one more question," Castle said. "Why did you have to kill him in front of _my_ books? Why not in the romance section, or in front of Stephen King's best sellers?"

Jemima stared at him, dumbfounded, and Beckett shot him a sidelong glance - amusement or annoyance, he wasn't sure - before nodding at their killer. "Jemima Bennett, you're under arrest for the murder of Johnson James."

* * *

"I never got an answer," Castle complained, handing Beckett a hot chocolate before settling onto the couch next to her.

"An answer?" Beckett asked, wrapping her hands around the warm mug and nestling into the fort of cushions Castle had insisted upon building for her.

"About why she decided to kill Johnson in front of _my_ books," Castle clarified, clearly affronted.

Beckett rolled her eyes, unwilling to give the topic more airtime. "We got justice," she reminded him. "That's what really matters. I know you said it was the worst case ever, but at least we closed it."

"We did," Castle agreed, a hand on Kate's knee as he scooted a little closer to her. "I just hope my last cases are better."

"Last cases?"

He shrugged. "Not last forever. But as you've said, things are changing. We're having our baby soon, and once your maternity leave is finished, I'll be a stay-at-home dad again."

Beckett peeked up at him from under her lashes, pleased to see his eyes were shining with joy at the prospect. The idea of being a working mom was daunting, but with Castle on her side, anything was possible. "You'll bring her into the precinct each day, right?"

"Coffee and baby, check," he agreed with a beam, and she smiled back at him.

"For as long as I'm at the precinct, anyway," she continued, and he jerked his head up sharply.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of the hot chocolate and letting the liquid slide down her throat before answering. "It's no secret I've felt a little lost over the last couple of days. I'm not making any decisions, not now, not while we have _this_ to concentrate on." She indicated her stomach, and as if on cue, Lily kicked, strong enough that Castle could see her shirt move. "But at some point it might be time to move on. Everything that's happened - getting shot, getting pregnant, and of course everything that happened _before_ we were shot, not to mention the case last week... somehow politics makes more sense than ever."

"Could you really leave the precinct?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I don't know... but that's the great thing." She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't have to know. Not now. Not yet."

* * *

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